


Crash and Burn

by elder_macaroni



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/F, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elder_macaroni/pseuds/elder_macaroni
Summary: Of course he couldn't have been born right. It was never that easy.(Trans! Whizzer fic. Can be read as a modern au or in canon time. Tw for one transphobic slur and dysphoria.)





	Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall it me back at it for the first time in like a year even tho this is hella short!!!! I rewatched falsettos with my fam and I just needed to write something for trans boy whizzer bc projecting onto characters is the only way I know how to write ok hope you enjoy 
> 
> ALSO I didn't proofread this or anything and I'm hella tired sorry if the writing or grammar sucks

His body was ugly, and that was just a fact of life. He had breasts where there should have been muscular pecs; a vagina where there should have been male genitalia. He had curves in places he shouldn't, a high voice and long hair when they were supposed to be low and short. So one day, he chopped off his hair, purposefully deepened his voice, and put on clothes that concealed the wrongs about him. And thus, Whizzer Brown became became a reality.

Fast forward a few years, and every night was spent in a gay bar for Whizzer. Sex was his income; his profession. As long as he made sure to give the guy release before he was made to undress, no one could figure out that Whizzer wasn’t biologically male. But of course, his secret wasn't always kept, and he had been thrown out of homes more times than he could count. This night was no different.

“A tranny?! Get the fuck out of my house, abomination!” rang in his ears and burned in his cheeks as Whizz faced the cold winter wind with nothing more than a light coat and his outfit he had worn to the bar. He sauntered towards the nearest park he could recall, raging shame and an intense wave of self hatred rising in his throat like bile. Of course he couldn't have been born right. It was never that easy.

This happened more often than Whizzer cared to admit; his prostitution landed him with nowhere to sleep countless times and the looming threat of starvation or hypothermia constantly hovering over his head. That is, until the blessings named Charlotte and Cordelia practically descended from the heavens and provided him with shelter and love and all the things he had walked out on when he was merely a teen. They took care of him, calling him by his male name and helping to get him tools to look more like a real man. Whizzer’s entire being was forever in debt to them, as it was more than likely that he would have ended up dead if Charlotte hadn't found him on a park bench one fateful night.

Once he began to recover from his life of seemingly eternal sickness and loathing, Whizzer began to work, earning money by helping out at a local gym. He still slept around for cash occasionally, but it was nice to not have to depend on selling his body in order to eat the next day. He eventually purchased an apartment next to the two lesbians, and started his life as an almost normal adult.

That is, until Marvin came into the picture.

Whizzer had never really been in a romantic relationship before; the only “lovers” he had ever had were people who slept with him multiple times. But something about Marvin - sad, lonely, bitter Marvin - reminded Whizzer of himself, sitting alone in parks or alleys each night. And so, he kept going back for more and more, until him and Marvin were seeing each other regularly. Marvin didn't mind that he wasn't really male. Marvin was fine with a blowjob, or a handjob if Whizzer was tired. He was just in it to escape the crushing feelings of guilt for lying to his wife about being gay. Or, soon to be ex-wife, if Marvin did what was right.

Personally, Whizzer could care less. Who gave a shit if Marv was married. He was the only man who willingly accepted Whizzer’s anatomy, and didn't make a fuss. He suspected it was because it helped Marvin deny his homosexuality. Again, Whizzer didn't give a shit. He was only in it for the sex and the routine. He just didn't let feelings become involved, because feelings always ended in heartbreak. 

But feelings became involved anyways, and Whizzer felt his world shatter and rain down upon him when Marvin handed him a suitcase and pointed to the door. The smashed glass of his rose tinted world tore at his arms, his legs, his insides, and he was afraid he would pass out and really, truly face death.

But instead he marched out of the apartment, body begging for him to return and beg for a second chance, to re-prove his worth. He only let himself cry when he was back on a park bench he used to call home, surrounded by the sounds of a brutal city that led to nothing but despair.

Crash and burn indeed.


End file.
